Topside
by Withtwopinkswords
Summary: In Hell, there is only so much one can do.
1. Chapter 1

**I love you almost as much a carpet loves the floor. Please read my insanity. **

**Come join me, and we'll probe the endless blackness of human's unspeakable awesome depravity.…or something. **

**I know things only toasters can speak of.**

**Chapter 1**

Sam' eyes flew open and he realized he had no idea where he was.

"DEAN!" Sam cried, looking back and forth and finding nothing but a thundering, empty void that could only be described by hours of bleak emo-ranting. It stank of burnt flesh, the distinct biting odor of decay and piss and strawberry shampoo.

"SAM!" Dean screamed back, undoing his belt with one hand as the other fluffed at his wig. It was the wig that exuded the shampoo smell, which only made the stink piss/flesh/decay more prominent.

"DEAN!"

"Dammit, Sam, what is it?"

"Where the hell are we?"

Dean snorted. "Satan's cage, dumbass."

Sam's ear went into shock at the word Satan. "W-what?"

"I SAID, WE'RE IN LUCIFER'S CAGE!" Dean yelled into his ear. Dean had finally taken off his pants and now stood wearing his signature jacket and pink girl's panties. His wig was blond and wavy. The sight of it and the bad news was too much for the angsty Winchester.

"NOOOOO!" Sam shrieked out in an impossibly high pitch, so loud and forceful that it breached Hell's layers and made a topside cow explode.

"STOP SCREAMING!" Dean bellowed at him, exasperated at his brother's overly dramatic howling, and reached into his jacket pocket and brought out some lipstick. He applied it before holding it out to Sam.

Sam stopped vomiting and stared.

"What the hell is that for?"

"Put it on. Satan here wants a show by two sexy brothers wearing lipstick, and Sammy, if you don't put it on, he'll make it bloody."

Without another word, Sam obeyed. Out of nowhere a bright flash blinded them and Sam looked down. He now wore frilly red woman's underwear and a headband made it look like he had horns. "Lucifer's changed my clothes just now, hasn't he?"

"Actually, that was Michael. He loves his cross-dressing eye beams." Dean said nonchalantly, fixing his white midriff and turning around to face the American Idol panel where the aforementioned angels sat, with their beautiful, frightening wings that had eyeballs which whispered out streams of unimaginably vulgar gothic poetry.

Of course, Lucifer and Michael wore flaming red tuxedos as it was Tuesday in Hell, and held between Lucifer's two glowing toes was a fiddle of pure, gleaming gold.

Lucifer rose on one foot, stuck a hand down his pants and scratched his divine ass deeply before shoving the fiddle in Sam's face. "You won, putrid shit-monkey. Enjoy your fucking fiddle."

Sam glowed with pride, flipping his new bangs. Glad to at least have that much over the massively overpowered angel, he stupidly gazed right back at the angel's true form. Bleeding from the eyes, the younger Winchester claimed the instrument. "_God _knows I will!"

"Whatever, whatever." Lucifer scowled with his eyes, as angel mouths were not capable of frowning, and waved a hand. A platform appeared, and in it's middle a silver pole seemed to go on forever upwards. "Get ready to dance, bitch."

Sam craned his neck backwards. "The fuck? Why is it so high?"

"It extends up into a topside strip joint that I whisper to now and then." The angel said in a bored tone, and bitch-slapped Sam with a wing. "But you'll never get high enough to escape, Sam." Lucifer grinned, and the bright white of it shot out in a concentrated beam, searing Sam's eyes from their sockets. "You're going to dance on the only faint hope you have of escape, dry-hump it on my whim and Michael and I will watch you, hating you for trapping us here and yet drooling over your tight, sexy little body."

"You cruel bast…" Sam blinked and discovered he had eyes again. "Wait, what about my body?"

"TIGHT AND SEXY, YOU DEAF MORTAL!" Lucifer shouted, and shoved Sam toward the pole.

Alongside the two angels sat a very frightened and confused Adam, who wondered why he wore an animal print top hat when he really preferred fedoras.

He realized he liked the feel of woman's satiny panties.

"So, Adam" Michael purred, running searing hand down the slight-of-build Winchester's chest. "How does it feel, to finally have your revenge?"

"What are you even talking about?"

"They're the reason you're set to rot in Hell forever."

"Oh, okay." Adam deadpanned. "At least I have my sanity."

"Why would you want that?"

"Dunno, but at least it's mine."

And so after years of forcing the Winchesters to shake their moneymakers and pole-dance, they moved on to the inevitable torture…Only to find Lucifer and Michael and even Adam got bored with tormenting the Winchesters, found that after a few hundred more years of torture, the two older brothers just didn't hate the stuff anymore, and were quite happily snatching the hot pokers and razors from their hands and enthusiastically demonstrating their favorite pokes and prods.

"These guys are fucking sick." Lucifer announced before he sat back and sighed tiredly, caressing his brother's face with a foot.

"More sick than us." Michael nodded his agreement, absently stroking a sleeping Adam's hair.

"He smells like burning bacon." Lucifer commented.

"Yes he does, brother." Michael tilted his impossibly beautiful head, thinking. "Let's get Death to boot these two out. He hates you, but maybe he'll take them. We can be together here, all alone…forever. With Adam's sweet ass."

"Weren't we going to punish them" Lucy jabbed a glowing thumb at the pair of Winchesters who were busy having fun splattering each other with chainsaws, "for eternity?"

"I don't think it's possible anymore." As Dean stuck his chainsaw into Sam's heaving chest and clawed for his heart, Michael's eyes widened, and in the process burned out Lucifer's own eyes. They fell out and plopped on the floor, shattering and going out like two light bulbs and new ones quickly replaced them, even more gloriously sexy than before. "We've tried to the crotch drill, the razors and holy fire, fried them in oil and ate them with a sauce made of their eyes only to vomit them back to life. We've even made them dry-hump a cactus. There is nothing we can do that they won't get off on.""True." Lucifer blinked. "I don't even know how that cactus got here…So that's it?"

"No, that's not it," Michael said slyly. "I have an idea how to keep ourselves entertained."

Lucifer leaned closer, enough that their wings touched eyeballs, which made them cry.

"I'm listening."

One and a half minutes later, Adam had woken up and watched as Dean kissed Sam's still-beating heart.

He noticed the angels making out as only two Angels of the Lord could and their wings staring passionately at each other, before the sight boiled the eyes down from his sockets. He stared sightlessly for a long time, a very long time, and finally his lips formed a question. "You guys are all incestuously gay, aren't you?"

They continued to make out, and paid him no attention.

He threw his head back and groaned. "That bastard Zachariah was RIGHT!"

**I love you, don't forget that. **

**NO, WAIT DARLING, COME BACK! I DIDN'T MEAN IT WHEN I SAID I'D KILL YOUR CAR WITH FIRE!**


	2. Chapter 2

Michael lovingly cleaned and shined Hannibal, his arm cannon wrought from the feathers of his brothers, solid, gleaming chromic metal made of the singing lights of the heavens, and blessed with the furious tears of God himself. Only he could wield this solidification of Heaven's Wrath.

Because he, too, was Heaven's Wrath incarnate. Fuck yeah.

Unfortunately, though, the one who made this weapon also made the Cage itself, which upon closer inspection was composed of the same gorgeous gray metal of the angel's blazing chariots, more feathers, with the addition of the fearful prayers of his own brothers and containing vessels of even more angry, shining God-tears.

You just can't shoot the tears of God himself, even with something else made of his tears, stupid fuckers. Lucifer sat sideways on their American Idol judge panel, watching him.

"You've been playing with that cannon like it was your dick, brother," Lucifer said calmly, bored, making Adam explode into a puddle of viscera with a snap of his fingers. "Itching to shoot it?"

"Like you wouldn't believe," Michael sighed, leaning over and managing to squeeze out a tear into the blood puddle. He held out and dropped a purple top hat, which landed squarely on the resurrected Adam's head. "But, see, I want to use Hannibal for a challenge like he was made for. Blowing apart the arrogant, blasphemous demi-gods of the other planets and then the planets themselves. Ah, Hannibal and I had so much fun with Pandora. Fucking blue cat thingies."

**Flashback**

**Hannibal began to shriek out a song so beautiful every human brain melted, unable to handle it, in the space-ship Michael floated next to on his own chariot of Wrath.**

**He could hear the blood and brain matter splattering throughout it, and he grinned, holding his chariot steady, cooing at the unicorns that pulled it, itching to gallop at the offending planet, with black and blue fire as their mane. Their eyes glowed redder than hot coals. **

"**ONWARDS!" Michael bellowed, and as they eagerly obeyed he readied Hannibal, wielding doom in his hand as easily as any good musician his instrument, and God willing this was going to be one of his masterpieces. **

**He pointed Hannibal right at the center of the blue planet, and told it to fire by channeling all his killing intent, all his righteous rage.**

**The weapon obeyed.**

**KA-BOOM!**

**Millions of massive balls of light shot out from Hannibal, turned into chainsaw swords that blazed with holy fire, and proceeded to rocket toward the planet, which then shat itself with fear and began to shake, the earthquakes killing some of it's inhabitants and sparing them their horrible chainsaw-fate.**

**Soon Pandora was no more than bits of rock scattered about the universe. **

**Michael laughed and patted Hannibal, which hummed contentedly as it absorbed the fucked-up cats fallen souls.**

"**Planet go boom-boom." **

**One of the unicorns promptly shat a rainbow.**

**End Flashback**

Lucifer frowned with his eyes. "Wait…So the unicorns really shoot rainbows out their ass?"

"Yes." Michael said, expressionless.

"…_Rainbow_ shit."

"_Holy_ shit, brother."

-OoOoOoOoOoO-

Although Hannibal shined as brightly and sexily as ever, the glorious weapon did not burn with wrath, because right now Michael could not channel ironically unholy rage into Hannibal. The older angel just wanted to stare into Lucifer's eyes as they both molested the sanity out of Adam, who at this point passionately argued with the black cactus the frolicking Winchesters had dry-humped at one point, and was painting sigils on his top hats that were really just his thoughts made into screaming red. This blood could not dry out in Hell.

The lovely top hat Adam painted on currently was white just for his new hobby. His favorite sigil of evil was a bloody smiley face that dripped wet crimson tears from the eyes. He called it…Larry.

"Larry," He asked the demented smear. "How's the wife?"

And Larry said nothing, which meant he said it all. Adam burst out laughing, even as Lucifer reached over and grabbed his ass.

Michael was not concerned with going along, but the smell of burning bacon soon drew him. The Winchester brothers had both gone into a horny frenzy mere yards away, with blood and screams for more flinging about. Adam was on his stomach at this point, unable to go anywhere. He stared at the cactus and Larry, and ignored the burning sensation of Lucifer's fingers…the ones that stroked down his back, you sick perverts.

He could not move, but called out to Larry for a cheeseburger.

Dean heard him. _Cheeseburgers…_

And as he straddled Sam—busily carving "I Love You" onto his own chest so that he could match Dean—on that blood-stained, filthy floor in Hell, he suddenly remembered there was a world beyond it. Above it.

With cheese.

"Hey, Sam." Dean said, smacking the razor from Sam's hands. Sam frowned up at him.

"Whaaaaat?" He whined, reaching for the razor but Dean grabbed his hands.

"Let's get the hell out of here…Uh, let's get out of Hell. I want a cheeseburger."

"But if we go back Dean," Sam replied glumly, "We won't recover from killing each other so we can do it again. No more hardcore S&M."

As he spoke, the wounds they inflicted on each other blurred out of existence, except for the scar-formed "I love you" over Dean's heart, and the "I lo" on Sam's chest,.

Both would miss being able to start over.

But Dean persisted, lightly slapping Sam, sending his just-recovered eyeballs flying across the Cage. Sam laughed and blinked, ogling Dean with even newer green eyes.

"I'm sure as fuck not going without you." Dean growled, so emotional was this declaration he reached up and threw down his wig just to punctuate it. "C'mon, we'll find another way to do it," Dean nudged his brother, and they both stood. "Up there."

Of course, he pointed at their only hope of salvation, the stripper pole.

As Adam screamed for Larry, they began to climb.


End file.
